


Little Slices of Death

by Zandra_Court



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zandra_Court/pseuds/Zandra_Court
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony hasn't slept (well, dreamed) since New York.  Pepper's concerned, but JARVIS knows who will get through.  Inspired by the IM3 trailer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Slices of Death

_People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. ~ George Orwell_

The first night, none of them slept. They shared war stories until dawn when Steve and Bruce decided to make breakfast. Clint and Thor worked on piecing together a temporary holding cell for the Horned One while Tasha and Pepper talked about Phil; laughing through tears in that way only women can do. He'd just sat, watching Dummy roll around cleaning while Wall-E and Eve (his own versions of the Roomba) spun around the floor. Even though they were physically exhausted, the adrenaline high of what they'd done together kept them entranced, like a dream one doesn't want to wake from.

Then there was Loki to deal with, a tesseract to engineer into a portal to Asgard, reports to SHIELD... He'd cat-napped the rest of that week because there was just so much to do. Even with Bruce's help, figuring out how to take Selvig's machine and make it small enough to transport Clairol and Greasy back home took serious brain juice. Whenever Bruce would give him that look he'd just tell Jolly Green that he'd sleep when they were done.

Of course, once they'd sent the gods off, he'd driven Bruce up to the house in Martha's Vineyard. The security made it a great place for Banner to hide out until SHIELD decided how to best handle the news of The Other Guy appearing when Bruce wanted him to and not just when he couldn't prevent it.

Back at Stark Tower, he'd begun redesigning it as Avengers Tower. At first, Pepper accepted it all as the way he worked, until one day he saw her walking around with a stop watch.

"You expecting Ryan Lochte to swing by for a dip? Not that I'd mind, but if Missy Franklin could come too, that would make the pool party more interesting."

"What are you talking about?" He secretly loved it when she was exasperated with him. He fingered the cord around her neck, letting his hand slide down and out along her breast, not because he was starting anything, but because she let him.

"Oh,” she relaxed a little at his touch and he could see her brain catching up. “No, I'm not timing laps, though if you wanted to let the Olympic Swim team practice downstairs, I would happily, y'know, help with towels or rub-downs with..."

"I don't think they'd use those in the water and....rub downs?"

"...coconut oil. Oh, are you the only one who gets to oogle? I had to endure you and your girls for years, while I..."

"No, hey, look all you want. I could get Rogers up here if that's what you're into. After he's been lifting he's practically puffy, which is rather fascinating to see really, and he's just a few floors down, so..."

"Tony." The soft way she said his name always made his gut clench.

"What?"

"You haven't been sleeping. That's what the stop watch is for. JARVIS and I have been tracking how many minutes you sleep at a time. You haven't slept for more than 35 minutes at a stretch in four days."

The concern in her eyes only wrenched his insides further. He'd come so close to being separated from her forever, not even able to say good-bye. Pulling her into a hug, he said, "Forget it. I'll sleep tonight."

What he did was challenge Captain Puffy-tits to a game of quarters. He hadn't gotten blitzed since his birthday, mostly because he’d been ashamed that he'd lost that much control even though blotting out all pain had been exactly the point. From the moment Pepper'd told him she was tracking his sleep, he knew that in order to sleep, he'd need to drink. A lot. At first he wasn't sure his plan would work because Capcicle was astoundingly bad at quarters, so he'd take a shot too, just to help speed things along. Rogers seemed to get the hang of it after awhile, but then alcohol took over and he told Steve that if he showed Pepper his boobs she'd give him beads, unless he wanted Pepper to show him hers, which he was fine with... The last thing he remembered was an annoyed look on that clean-cut face as Cap said, "I know another way to make you sleep," followed by a sharp pain in his jaw and blackness.

&&&

When his eyes blinked open, he knew it was either right before dawn or gonna rain. Either way, the dull grey-blue hue of the sky made him shiver slightly.

"JARVIS?" 

"Yes sir."

"What time is it and why's it cold?"

"The time is 6:15 am and the temperature is 62 degrees, though your bedroom is 68."

He rolled over and realized that he was cold because he'd been stripped of his jeans and t-shirt before being put to bed by persons unknown. He looked down and saw the small pink triangles all over his boxers. Pepper'd given them to him, saying they reminded her of the Mark VI. When he'd pointed out that they were covered in the symbol for gay pride, she'd just laughed and said she'd known that too.

"JARVIS please tell me Uncle Samson wasn't the one who put me to bed last night."

“Sir, Captain Rogers was indeed present for your retiring.”

“Shit.”

“Miss Potts inquired as to the state of your mandible, though Captain Rogers assured her he had not damaged you permanently.”

Opening his jaw a little he could now feel the stiffness, but that only convinced him of how much the super-soldier had pulled his punch. 

“Well, at least she can’t complain that I didn't sleep.”

“Yes sir. I calculated 435 minutes of continuous unconsciousness, though my measurements of your brain activity indicates an absence of REM cycles, which would imply you are still...”

“I slept. Who gives a shit if I dreamed?”

“Sir, many studies have concluded that a lack of regular REM cycles leads to fatigue, inability to concentrate and reason, and mental psycho...”

“JARVIS, enough

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t tell Pepper about the REM thing.”

“As you wish sir.”

The trouble with making computers sentient is that you no longer controlled everything they did or said, just like people. He could tell JARVIS to keep his trap shut, but he already knew that a text or e-mail was likely popping up on Pepper’s phone as he sat there in his pink boxers illuminated by his self-made night light.

&&&

Three days later, he sat in his workshop, testing out all the options on the Mark VII. The suit hadn't been fully functioning when he’d needed to deploy it while in free-fall, so he was going back and adding on. The edges of his soldering iron grew fuzzy, so he decided it was time for one of his quickie-naps. As he stood to walk over to the over-sized, black lounge chair tucked along the wall, his eyes caught Bruce’s form in the doorway, startling him.

“Shit Banner! Good thing the Other Guy doesn't live in me or you’d be hamburger right now.”

“Sorry. Pepper gave me the pass code.”

“No big. What draws you down from sea and shore?” He was wide awake again, so he went back to his solder. Even as he did it, he knew this was off. He should be happy to see Bruce, but all he felt was dullness.

“Well, I've now re-read Count of Monte Cristo and The Complete Works of Dickens and I guess I was getting a bit bored. Funny. When I was working in the particle lab, y’know, before my...accident...I used to envy tenured professors who would take semesters off or go on sabbatical. Now I've got nothing but time and all I want is to be back in the lab.”

“Well, pull up a chair and help me re-wire these conduits.”

Banner walked over and stood close, watching him work. At least that’s what he thought he was doing until he looked up at him and realized the chocolate-colored eyes were locked on his face.

“Got something to say Doc, say it. Or go. The creepy-eye is busting my mojo.”

“Why can’t you sleep Tony?”

Dropping his tools he pushed against the metal table and rolled back. “Who called you? Pepper? Captain Buttinski? Who?”

Bruce stood still, hands lightly clasped together in front of him, eyes never leaving his face. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I do sleep. I sleep great.” He ran a hand over his face and down his beard, scratching the stubble that had formed since his morning shave.

“You aren't letting yourself sleep long enough to dream, so you’re not great.”

“JARVIS, that’s it! I’m downloading you into the drive-thru menu board of a Taco Bell!”

“Rant all you want.” Bruce’s smile was disarming but his expression reflected the steely resolve to not let him out of this conversation.

His arms dropped, dangling over the armrests of the drafting chair. “What could my dreams bring me? The nightmare I lived echoes through my brain when I’m awake. Why give that free-reign when I sleep?”

“Dreams are where our psyche works out its issues. Avoiding that doesn't make it better, only worse.”

The only thing his psyche was working out right now was its desire for scotch. Lots of it. Popping out of his chair he headed for the small bar he kept in the nook with the couch.

“And drinking yourself numb won’t work either.” Banner’d followed him across the room, so he stepped into the man’s personal space, his nose taking in the mixture of deodorant and aftershave that was cataloged as “Bruce” in his memory banks, taking him back to the lab on the heli-carrier, before...before.

Leveling his gaze he said, “Y’know, for someone who never remembers what the Hulk does, you sure seem cocky about how easy it is to carry those sounds, those images around with you.”

One of the most fascinating things about Bruce, as far as he was concerned, was that there always seemed to be an animal lurking underneath his skin, even when he was perfectly calm. Bruce’s eyes locked with his, “I do remember. When I have to, when I dream, I remember all of it.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” Turning back to the bar, he pulled the top off the decanter. Bruce’s hand firmly took the top from him and re-plugged it as he pulled at his right elbow with the other.

“It’s really not a matter of what you want Tony. C’mon, we’re going to go someplace with fewer distractions.”

“Dr. Banner! I do declare! Whatever will the neighbors think!” He let his voice go high as he attempted to pull his arm out of Bruce’s grip, which held surprisingly strong.

“You need sleep if only so your bullshit stops being so cliche. Let’s go.”

As the firm grip on his right elbow guided him to the elevator he felt something start to give inside. He knew from experience that the one person he could count on to catch him when he fell was the man holding onto him now. In those nano-seconds, the dam broke and every cell in his body screamed from exhaustion.

“Where are we going to go?”

“I figured we'd head down to the TV room. Not to watch anything, but so you can lay in one of those recliners that cost more than a car while we talk.”

That didn't sound bad, but what he really wanted...could he even ask? _Trust._ That’s what Bruce was to him. The one he trusted.

“Hey, uh, would you mind if we just went to my room?”

“Nope.” Bruce shook his head lightly and with little fan-fair, pushed the button for the penthouse suite. Once the doors closed, Bruce let go of his arm and there was a flicker of sadness at its loss while they rode up in silence.

As the doors opened into the suite, lights went on. Not quite the mood lighting JARVIS normally used when he stepped off with Pepper, but soft all the same.

Motioning towards the bed but hoping he wasn't seeming specific, he said, “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll be out in a minute.” He opened a wall panel to reveal shelves with stacks of sweats, flannel and t-shirts. Grabbing a pair of Blackwatch-plaid flannel pants, he headed towards the bathroom.

After changing, he was surprised to see Bruce sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, flipping through a recent issue of _Scientific American_.

“You’re on my side,” he lied.

“No I’m not.” He didn't want to put much thought into how Bruce knew that, so he tried another tack.

“You wanna braid my hair and talk about boys?”

“Do you?” Bruce smiled lightly as he put the mag on the nightstand and folded his hands in his lap. Tony was starting to see how deliberate and graceful Banner’s movements were. _Definitely yoga. Though I’m still not ruling out the huge bag of weed._

“You wanna borrow something, more uh. Well...” Shit this got awkward fast.

“No, I’m good.”

“OK, great.” he sat down on the bed, mimicking Bruce’s pose. Once he sat down though, the fatigue that had enveloped him in the elevator returned and he re-adjusted himself so he was laying down, propped up by a few pillows. 

“You want me to create a pillow-barrier or something?”

“If you feel the need for one go ahead, but I’m not concerned.” Banner was taking zen to whole new levels and it was starting to annoy him.

“You switch-hit often there Big Guy? Do the boys in the club get off on the threat of their meal going suddenly Super-size?”

Bruce sighed. “You’re not going to piss me off tonight Tony, but if it makes your ego happier to try, by all means. All this isn't going to make the pain, or me, go away, though.”

Staring up at the ceiling, he breathed slowly in and out a few times and said, “I knew I was going to die. I let go of the nuke, the suit went dark and I went to sleep.”

“But you didn't die.”

“Thanks to Hulk.” He turned to look at Bruce.

“The Other Guy does have his moments.”

Rolling onto his side, he looked up. “I wasn't ready. Rogers was right. I’m not the one to make the sacrifice play. I always assume my brain will find a way out because I’m always smarter, quicker than anyone else. Dying isn't a variable. I don’t even factor it in.”

Nodding, Bruce thought a moment. “I can understand how that strategy has been working for you. But now...”

“Exactly. Now I know there are things out there stronger, more powerful and really, I’m glad you’re on my side because I would not enjoy trying to out-think you.”

“Thanks. So...you’re vulnerable. There are tiny spaces where scales are gone and you’re exposed, like Smaug.”

“God, I love it when you talk geek!" and he felt a thrilling rush at seeing Bruce flush a little. 

“OK...you have a confidence problem. Tell me where this collides with your refusal to dream?” Bruce placed an arm across his pillow, above his head.

“No, confidence is never my problem. I don’t want to dream because I don’t want to relive it and have it all go wrong. And I don’t want to imagine what might come next.” He yawned.

“Reliving it is...unpleasant. The hurt echoes even after you wake. I can’t make that not happen. But I can be here when it does.” 

He sighed and closed his eyes against that truth, then begrudgingly accepted it. 

Maybe it was because Bruce was indestructible, or at least Hulk was, but he experienced a safety he hadn't had in weeks. Then he felt Bruce’s fingers lightly carding through his hair, a wash of serotonin coursed through his brain and down his spine as he heard the pages of the magazine flip open. Between the comfort of Bruce's touch and his own fatigue, he let go of the last string tethering him to consciousness and let his mind fall into the dark.


End file.
